Thoughts from Southeastern Europe
The trickle of refugees became a stream as family after family returned to Dry River. But devastation greeted their homecoming: two out of every three Kosovar homes had been destroyed as the neighboring army had systematically meted out its own form of ethnic cleansing.
Ten years later, in October 2009, believers from across Kosova gathered in Suhareka, a Muslim town with a Serbian name that means “Dry River”––but they gathered to celebrate a decade of the blessing and growth that grew out of tragedy.
How does God repeatedly accomplish that miracle in our lives? How does He take that which should have destroyed one’s spirit and transform tragedy into triumph? From a mountainside overlooking the Sea of Galilee, Jesus’ words of wisdom flow to a parched humanity thirsting for justice and mercy: “You are the salt of the earth” (Matthew 5:13). To a people beaten down and repressed, this was God’s remedy for community development? Salt?
Undoubtedly, they were simple people, gathered to hear the words from a great teacher. They were men who plowed the earth and pulled fish from the sea to provide for their families. They were women whose rough hands created nourishment out of that offering. For the humanity that leaned in to hear the words of Jesus, salt was something they understood. Just a few kilometers away, the salt-filled Dead Sea provided its healing capabilities. The fresh fish were preserved with that snowy white substance. In their world, salt healed. In their world, salt preserved the good. To simple folks gathered on a mountainside, “You are the salt of the earth” must have carried a revolutionary message.
Today, many of us live in places of destruction, in societies where hope has long dried up, and where people suffer. For us, the metaphor in Matthew 5 resonates with a practical commission to act intentionally and to minister with the limited resources we have at hand. We are the salt of our communities, and as salt, our purpose is to be a healing balm in the hand of God. We are the salt of our neighborhoods; our purpose is to preserve the good wherever it can be found. We are the salt of our families, and because salt makes slippery paths safe, so we create havens of safety for those who cry for sanctuary.
Sitting in a hall in Suhareka, celebrating a decade of miracles, the words of Jesus resonate loudly with the believers.
You are the salt of Suhareka. Go and do what you were called to do. Be salt. And, as you live as salt, make others thirsty for that which quenches your parched soul––the wellspring of eternal life.
